The Perfect Crime
by Nonstop-Nonsense
Summary: Harry Potter gets taken by the man who killed his parents. There's really no guessing what Tom Riddle is up to. The man is such a mystery and Harry is determined to make him pay for his crimes, no matter what it takes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: AU! Setting is supposed to be Victorian era- ish. Still working on it though~ And no magic and stuff. That's all for now... i think. :D

* * *

Harry ran as fast as he could from the persistent hunter.

Breathing heavily, he desperately tried to ignore the burning pain in his legs as he stumbled on the stairs.

Now that he looked at the events that led to his current predicament, he seemed to spend half of the time running from his pursuer and the other half hiding from said man.

He caught a flash of an open door in his peripheral and he rushed in without a second thought. Inside, he found huge glass windows with intricate designs on the walls. Moonlight peeked in from behind heavy velvet curtains and fell upon a white grand piano. Tall shelves with neatly stacked books decorated the wall opposite a grandfather clock and a black fireplace that looked extremely dusty.

Harry would have stayed rooted to the ground, awestruck, if not for the voice in his head reminding him that he didn't have that luxury.

He hurried towards the desk at the farthest part of the room and squeezed himself into the cramped space under.

There was a slow creak and Harry was aware that the man was close. He could hear footsteps roaming around the room, following the pace of the ticking clock.

Every tick of the clock, he knew his predator was growing closer.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock…_

The clock suddenly made a loud ringing sound.

It was midnight.

When the noise stopped, so did the footsteps. Harry grew uneasy and he squirmed in his place. He was sweating bullets and panting heavily.

He looked up and saw a shadow in front of the desk. A hand grabbed the underside of the table and a head peaked at him. The man crouched down to be eye-level with Harry, admiring the emerald eyes that seemed to glisten brighter under the faint moonlight.

"Playtime's over, Potter."

The man dragged him out from under the table and Harry struggled from the man's grasp. His attempts were futile, however, as his strength was nothing compared to the man. Strong arms shoved him to the tall chair nearby. Harry crashed into it, wincing. He opened his mouth to protest, but the man's hovering body made him eat is words.

"Don't make me repeat myself," the man stated. He sounded calm, but Harry could detect the heavy threat behind the words.

"You should know better, Tom. I don't intend to give in to you," Harry growled, lifting his head in a challenging manner and staring at the man head-on.

He knew better than to be deceived by his hunter's outstanding looks: A tall stature; creamy brown hair, piercing crimson eyes - he was, without a doubt, a beautiful work of art.

Except for one simple flaw.

He was a twisted masterpiece, born from a dark, rough past. He was an angel intending to wreak havoc, to _create_ hell... a _paradox_ indeed.

"That's more like it." Tom's lips spread into a wide, menacing grin.

Tom Riddle was broken and Harry Potter could say the same for himself.

He closed his eyes in frustration.

_How did he end up living with the man who had mercilessly killed his parents?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own.

* * *

James immediately sensed that something unpleasant was bound to happen. It had been days since a series of unusual things started occurring at the Potters.

Secret passageways were opened and hidden rooms were unlocked.

Family heirlooms would go missing only to be found in the exact same place the next day.

Ominous noises would be heard every night. They could hear shoveling, like someone was digging up… or _burying_ something in their courtyard.

Whoever caused these things… the Potters never knew, they never lived to find out.

With the exception of Harry Potter, the only son of James and Lily.

* * *

Harry always knew the day would come, he just never thought it'd happen this soon.

Not now… he hoped. But what was he to do?

After all the weird disturbances that occurred, the devil finally showed up. Harry was hiding beneath the floor panels Lily had shoved him into.

He could see his father getting beaten up, blood messily splattering across beige walls as his mother desperately tried stop the man from hurting James. Lily let out a cry of anguish and Harry fought the urge to puke at the sight of his father's lifeless body hitting the floor.

Harry casted an expectant look at the door as he heard it made a quiet creak.

Everything went silent and the room was still when a man came in.

He was a tall man in his 30's with sunken dark eyes. He was wearing a gray coat over a silver inner shirt and a pair of black trousers. He held a long obsidian cane with a silver emblem.

"My Lord…", said the man that murdered his father.

Whoever this man was, he's most certainly dangerous. The servant kneeled as his Lord approached and held his cane to James' dead body. He placed it below his chin and lifted it up to examine his features.

"And the child?" The man's deep voice echoed through the room. He was staring down at James with a look of pity in his stoic face.

Harry gasped as the man arched an eyebrow, his eyes casting a glance at a pair of wide, green eyes beneath the flooring. Lily, noticing this, made her way to the corner of room hoping to conceal Harry.

The man walked towards her, taking out from his pocket what looked like a revolver. She sunk down to the floor, her long dress covering up Harry's vision. He could feel his mother shaking madly, her nails scratching at the wood above him. The man grabbed behind Lily's head and turned her over, her face crashing to floor. Harry looked at her tear-strained eyes as she stared at him through the narrow gaps of the woodenboards. He saw her slim fingers stroke the wood as if she was holding his son for the last time, her tears dropping on Harry's flushed cheeks.

It was painful for Harry to watch but he fought the urge to blink. Although this was the case, he abruptly closed his eyes when he heard a loud _bang. _He bowed his head down and slowly opened his tired eyes, only to see his clenched fists stained with blood. Following the trail, he looked up and was met by a pair of vibrant green eyes. Harry could feel his throat tighten as he watched his mother's eyes that seemed so alive, so pretty and bright as it was welling up with tears.

"Remember this very well, young Potter. If you do not wish to meet the same fate as your parents, do not even think of defying me. " The man spoke as he tossed away the revolver which crashed beside James' corpse.

Harry didn't know what to feel, he felt numb. His ears rang with the sound of gunshots, everything he saw was blood and the room smelled of carnage and mayhem.

Then the two men headed outside, leaving the place a bloody mess.

Days after the crime, his parents were buried in their courtyard upon Harry's wishes.

Back then, Harry had wondered if the man had red eyes, or was it just the reflection of the bloodstained room. Whichever one, he decided that it didn't matter.

Life is cruel and forces things unto people, horrible things they never expected they'd touch.

At such a young age, Harry was forced to see the foulness of humans.

And he never did expect to, but he was drawn to it.

From that day onwards, Harry lost his youth. Everyone saw him smile but his eyes never did. He seldom conversed with people but when he does, he never speaks of himself. The Potter's manor looked majestic on the outside and society was fooled by this perfect façade that concealed its wretched interior.

_Just like Harry._

Some couldn't help but notice how much he's changed… how different he's become from his parents.

After that incident, he was declared as the boy lived.

But Harry knew... that night, three people were murdered.

He just created the slight difference of breathing, and he didn't consider that as _living_ at all.

* * *

AU: FLASHBAAAAAAAAAAACK


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N:

FINALLY! A chapter that consists of 1000+ words!

Excuse my grammar..and typos..and mistakes... orz

* * *

Harry had just woken up when a maid came in and set a bed breakfast table in front of him. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't in the mood to eat after waking up from a horrible nightmare.

"Sir? M'Lord wishes to see you after breakfast."

He almost dropped his fork when the servant spoke.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's alright," Harry cut her off before she could even start. He watched the young maiden as she covered her face with her long red hair. She harshly bit her lip and stared at her feet.

"Did he say anything else?"

"No, sir…"

Absentmindedly, he rose up from his bed and motioned his servant to clean up his leftovers. Without putting on some decent clothes, he left the room just wearing pajamas underneath a black sleeping robe.

Harry walked lazily, before slowly arriving in front of a large wooden door at the farthest corner of the hall.

He could clearly remember the first time he arrived at the manor.

He had wandered aimlessly, not even knowing what he was searching for.

Not a familiar face in those huge paintings that hung on mahogany walls.

Sunlight barely reached the hall because of heavily-curtained windows.

The air was stagnant, heavy and suffocating.

Everything was _foreign_. He didn't belong in this prison, no matter how it was prettily dressed up.

Then things had started to change, and Harry knew he had no choice but to stay.

He had walked among familiar corridors, recognizing every scratch and crack in its walls.

He grew acquainted to the portraits on large canvases, aware of the remarkable and horrid stories behind every beautiful face.

Finally, there came a time when he finally stopped gasping and holding his breath.

He had come to the conclusion that he had to_ endure… _to_ breathe _although he was inhaling poison.

Because, if he had to live in this prison, he might as well make the most out of it.

* * *

Harry stood still in front of the wooden door, pondering whether to knock or to just stride in. Unfortunately, he didn't have the drive to be rude today.

He knocked at the door, waiting for Tom to let him in despite knowing that it was unlocked.

"Come in", He heard Tom's voice from the other side.

Harry pushed the door open and saw the man sitting in his desk.

It was the lounging area where Tom and Harry usually spent their time together... separately. Most of the time, Tom would be spotted in front of his desk doing lots of paperwork. Harry, on the other hand, can be found idling around, reading books while lying on the couch in front of the fireplace.

Harry went inside the room and positioned himself in his usual spot, eyeing Tom who's currently engrossed in reading the newspaper.

The front page had Tom's face in it, just a bit different. Harry had always wondered why the man even made an effort to change his appearance in public. Whenever he saw him in the newspapers, his hair would be raven-black and his eyes, a darker shade of brown. He wore extravagant coats over white frilly blouses. But setting aside the fact that he was a constant subject of attention and admiration of the people, there was something strange about "Public Tom". Harry noticed the way Tom carried himself in front of an audience. Indeed, he looked like a young and wealthy nobleman, but something was off.

The front page had Tom's "Public Face"

That wasn't the Tom he knew. _That Tom_ looked more scholarly and soft-spoken. He stole a glance at the man's face for a second and suddenly came to the conclusion why Tom even bothered maintaining that kind of image. Things would probably be different if Harry were to meet the man before him for the first time, under different circumstances.

Don't judge a book by its cover, this saying can be perfectly associated with Tom Riddle. With his pale skin, creamy brown hair and lean stature, it seems like he came out from a painting... one you'll absolutely regret admiring.

His fair skin and light hair creates a very good contrast with the strong color of blood. A chiseled jaw, combined with constantly creased eyebrows and pursed lips, is not something anyone would want to see everyday. And his eyes... were a color of crimson that makes people wonder if he could see as deep into their foul souls.

_Definitely more pleasant in public…_

Harry was practically watching him for quite some time, bashing the man in his mind when Tom broke the silence and cleared his throat loudly.

"We could do this all day, but a visitor's coming."

"And why are you telling me this?"

Harry never went out of his room whenever there were guests. Of course, that wasn't his personal choice considering that he was always locked in. Tom's always been careful not to expose Harry's existence to anyone, stating that it could risk his reputation. He would come across as a weakness… and that was the last thing Tom was ready to deal with at the moment.

Naturally, Harry would very much want that to happen. But he had greater things in mind… he just had to wait for the right opportunity to arrive.

The man spoke, not bothering to look up. "I want you to meet him."

Tom watched the young man's reaction intently behind the newspaper. He saw how Harry's eyebrows creased, how his mouth slightly fell open… and how he immediately masked his surprise effortlessly.

_Harry was slightly getting better at this. _

If Tom wasn't observant enough, he could have missed it.

"Who is he? Finally trying to turn yourself in?" Harry remarked casually.

At this, Tom brought down the newspaper and grinned darkly at the young man.

"Not even close."

"Then what?" Harry was starting to grow impatient.

"Lucius Malfoy: An influential nobleman, and a convenient ally."

"_Your _ally, perhaps. What has this got to do with me?"

"_You_ just have to vouch for his son's safety."

"But I don't even know his son!"

Tom sighed, "Oh, right… Go to the basement, he's probably still sleeping there."

"You're keeping a child in the basement… and you want me to tell his father that he is perfectly fine? Are you insane?" Harry let out a mocking laugh.

"Of course he's not perfectly fine. Although, I'm not sure that he'd still be, if Malfoy refuses to comply."

"What do I get in return, then?"

Tom stood up and sat next to Harry. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and lightly squeezed it.

"This may be the closest chance you'll get into having a family, Harry."

Harry slapped the hand away and glared at him.

"Didn't you just murder them?!" Harry clenched his fists so hard it could have drawn blood.

"Not all of them." Tom said softly, in contrary to those manipulating crimson eyes.

Harry wasn't in the mood for Tom's mind games. He raised his arm and just when he was about punch the bastard in the face, his trembling hand was seized.

Tom's hand firmly gripped Harry's and brought his face close to whisper into the boy's ear.

"Think about it, Harry. Don't you want this more than anything else? A family?"

"Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the thing I want the most is to see you_ dead_?"

"That _could_ come later." Tom flashed a menacing grin at Harry who was practically speechless.

* * *

Harry headed for the basement, still pondering about his conversation with Tom.

_Tom's lying… How come this "relative" never showed up? Where the hell was he when his parents died and he was left alone?_

After all this time, Harry just couldn't believe it. And partly, he didn't want to give in to Tom's _reques_t. He was conflicted as to let the man have his way.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a young blonde boy pinned to the wall. This was actually worse than what he had imagined. The boy's arms and legs were heavily bruised, loosely chained to the wall.

Harry came closer to inspect the lad's face, when the boy unexpectedly opened his eyes.

"Who are you? A new servant?" The blonde sneered at him.

"Is that any way to talk to your savior?"

The boy gawked at him anxiously. "…you're letting me go?"

"No. But I could ask your kidnapper for a bit more leniency."

"No need, let my father see how bad I look. That way- "

"Your father's coming. Bu he has to sacrifice a _great deal_ just to get you back."

The blonde looked confused. "If it's money you want…"

Harry cut him off. "What if money isn't what your kidnapper wants?"

"What do you mean?" He asked nervously, looking as though he didn't want to here what's coming.

"Your father's going to have to switch places with you. Your freedom for his, young Malfoy."

He looked at Harry as realization hit him. He bit his lip a he slumped back to the wall.

"Draco." The blonde boy hissed.

Harry barely heard him. "What?"

"The name's Draco… Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter. A pleasure to meet you." He knelt beside him and extended a hand towards the other, who didn't return the gesture.

"I don't intend to stay here and make friends."

"I could help you. If that's what you want…" Harry offered, feigning innocence.

Draco paused for a moment. After a few seconds, he looked up and nodded.

"Then I'm indebted to you, Harry Potter."

Harry placed a hand on the man's shoulder and turned to leave the basement. Just when he closed the door, pursed lips twisted into a wide smirk.

He had so many plans in store for his newly-found _friend_.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy rushed inside the room to see two men idly playing chess. A servant quickly caught up to him, breathless.

"Lord Malfoy-"

_"Where is my son?"_ Lucius gave them an accusing glare.

Lucius Malfoy most certainly lived up to his name, he had an air of nobility. Although at the moment, he appeared to be quite shaken, taken that his son missing.

Tom stood up and came close to the man, settling his crimson eyes into grey ones.

"Did I allow you to enter the room, Lucius Malfoy?"

Lucius stepped back a little as Tom crushed his spirit with his threatening glare.

Harry decided to speak up, seeing how Lucius was frozen in fear.

"Draco is doing well, Sir Malfoy." Tom arched an eyebrow at Harry, seeing how he finally decided to cooperate with his plan.

Lucius made a sigh of relief as Tom returned to his seat and stared at the chess board.

"How about a deal, Malfoy?"

Lucius nervously stared at Tom. "What do you want?"

"_Be my servant._ If you swear your loyalty to me, I'll give you back your son… and possibly a bit of wealth from the Potter's heir." He offered, looking at Harry's direction.

There was a long pause.

The two men resumed their chess game, Tom, _obviously_ on the winning side. Harry seemed irritated that the man wasn't fully paying attention to the game but still manages to have the upper hand.

A few knocks came and a servant peaked at the door, "My Lord, I'm sorry for the intrusion but if I may ask about today's dinner…"

Tom beckoned her to come forward. It was the same maid that served Harry this morning.

"Seeing how we have such a wonderful guest… you could head to the butchery and ask them for the finest quality of meat they could lay their hands on. On second thought, I think we have a _pure blood_ down in the basement."

The man flinched and Harry could see him shaking with rage.

Lucius Malfoy _is_ a proud man. Harry once told Tom that he didn't think the man would sacrifice so much for his son. He didn't expect Tom's reply to this. He casually dissolved the conversation saying, _"Harry, how poorly you regard family."_

And somehow, the atmosphere felt heavy. Harry wanted to remind him that it was his fault, but he swallowed back his words. The man didn't look a bit bothered… but his aura undoubtedly shifted into a deadly one. That was the first time Harry wanted to ask about Tom's family… his _past_. Unfortunately, he didn't want to come across as someone who _cared_.

"My Lord?" The servant looked confused.

Harry laughed, if he hadn't hated Tom, he could very much imagine them being friends. Although it's not difficult to think that they'd probably _still_ end up killing each other.

"I wouldn't want that though. He's all skin and bones already." Harry mentioned, twisting a chess piece in between his fingers.

Lucius gripped at his sides. "My Lord…", he muttered.

Tom looked up from the board and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What was that, Malfoy?" His crimson eyes widened with anticipation as the corners of his lips quirked up.

"My Lord." Lucius replied reluctantly, slightly bowing his head.

Tom grinned at Harry as he held his queen and declared _checkmate_.

"First things first. I want you to let the wolf out of its cage. _Let it hunt_." Tom's red eyes glinted nastily.

* * *

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle Sr. stared behind the rusty bars of Azkaban questioning a certain criminal regarding the whereabouts of the only Potter heir. Little did he know that a few days after his visit, he'd return and find nothing but an empty prison cell.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: I think this is turning into a Drarry fic... NAHHH O_O

* * *

"You're making this too easy for me." Harry mocked as he, piece by piece, took down Tom's pawns.

Once again they were in the study, playing chess over a cup of coffee.

"You've grown senile."

Tom hummed looking uninterested, his chin resting on his palm. "It's taking too long."

"I was thinking... would it be this easy to take down your _pawns _too_?_"

Tom knew what Harry had implied, but he didn't look up from the chess board. He knew better than to succumb to the boy's childish remarks.

"Unfortunately, that isn't happening."

Harry leaned forward, "Why? I doubt you have a lot. "

This time, Tom looked up and stared at Harry. "Oh, I've got enough to slaughter a family or two."

Harry frowned and slumped back to his chair. It was his turn to move, when a question popped into his mind.

"Have you slaughtered yours yet?"

He noted the sudden pause of Tom's hand when he was just about to move his piece.

_'__Looks like I've just stepped on a landmine.'_

Harry silently praised himself for pissing the man off. Lately, that has been the only thing that's keeping him busy, being locked up and all. He considered it his newly discovered hobby.

Tom sighed before finally making his move. "We'll still have to wait and see if you'll live long enough to find out."

Harry was silent for the rest of the game. He didn't like it when Tom was acting this way. He didn't really enjoy hearing empty threats from the man, it was like talking to an automated machine.

"Clean this up." Tom ordered, distracting him from his thoughts.

"But we're not done yet!" Harry wasn't going to let this go…Now that he was very close to defeating Tom. He stared down at the board and his eyes narrowed at what he saw. His king, cornered by a queen and a rook. Without a doubt, it was a checkmate.

"Although you really did step up your game, _you're just too damn obvious_,_ Harry_." Tom sighed dramatically.

Harry picked up the pieces and returned them to their box irritably. Tom's presence didn't help either. Whenever he looked back... he saw the man smirking at him, looking utterly smug and victorious.

"I actually enjoy your company, Harry. Do you know that?" Tom started, the infuriating grin never leaving his face.

"To be honest, _I actually loathe your company, Tom._ I hope I'm not making it too obvious." Harry replied sarcastically, as he grabbed a book and went for the couch.

Tom laughed as he continued, "It's like chasing an animal."

"Then maybe you should've gotten yourself a _pet_ instead." Harry suggested, his face filled with nothing but disdain. He rested on his back, holding the book just above his face and started reading.

"A pet won't do, especially for someone who enjoys the adrenaline of a chase."

"Does it look like I'm going to running away from here?" Harry casually asked, his voice not giving away what he truly was thinking.

"You will. I'll let you have your way at first, you know how it amuses me to watch… See how close you can get before I finally hunt you down and catch you again."

Tom stood up and headed for the door, leaving Harry extremely annoyed.

_'__Looks like Tom also found a hobby for himself.'_

He grunted as the book he was reading accidently slipped through his fingers and landed flat on his face.

"And don't read in that position. You'll hurt the book." Tom mentioned before closing the door behind him.

Harry would very much want to throw it at the bastard's face, but then again… He didn't want to hurt the goddamn book.

* * *

Draco was vaguely aware that his chains were being removed. When he finally became fully conscious, he saw Harry Potter staring down at him.

"Can't you get any slower?" Harry started. He took Draco's arm and placed it on his shoulder to support him.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it."

"Then you are a very poor judge of character, Draco."

They climbed up the stairs and Harry proceeded to open the door. When it did, Draco winced as sunlight first hit him, making his eyes hurt. After being stuck in a basement for months, his body ached to move but ironically, it actually pained him to even move a muscle.

"Come on, before they catch us." Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulder and pulled him up.

"But I thought your master already spoke with my father? Are we doing something illegal here? Isn't he going to let me go?" Draco asked relentlessly.

Harry often visited Draco at the basement. He kept him company, not _entirely_ because he planned on using him, but because just wanted to talk. With the exception of the chains, Harry was just as much as a prisoner as Draco was.

"We wouldn't be sneaking out if that was the case. And kidnapping itself is illegal, Draco."

Harry didn't really know if Tom had planned to let Draco go. All he knew was that he had to be the one to return him to Lucius. That way, he could proceed with his plans.

"Wait… Are you kidding me, Potter? In broad daylight?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Does it seem that way? Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want to go back then?" After a slight pause, Harry sighed. "Tom's not at home right now so this is the best chance we've got."

Draco snorted but still followed Harry as he made his way out to the courtyard. They arrived at the garden and walked towards a tall hedge covered in vines.

"We'll just have to climb over that?" Draco pointed at the boundary.

Harry just shook his head. "I'm not carrying you over that."

"What?!"

"Calm down. There's a passageway." Harry stared at him looking amused. He dug this fingers through the thick vines and found a cramped opening. He went inside and motioned Draco to follow. When they reached the end of the tunnel, they were welcomed by a lot of curious looks aimed at them.

They were on the streets… They made it… The sight of the outside world overwhelmed Draco but not as much as it did to Harry.

Draco finally spoke disturbing Harry's moment. "Now what?"

"Follow me."

"You know the way?" Draco looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry looked over his shoulder. "No, I don't."

And that, was how Draco's growing respect for Harry came crashing down. He laughed for the first time, after being trapped in that basement for so long.

"Let me handle this one, Potter."

Draco grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him to the opposite direction.

"Malfoy Manor's this way, after all."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was starting to regret helping Draco escape. Maybe Tom had made the right decision in keeping the poor idiot in that cramped basement. At least there he's highly unlikely to get lost.

"Harry."

_Here it comes…_

"I think we've still got a long way to go," Draco said, scratching the back of his head.

Harry stared at him incredulously. They've been walking for hours, going around in circles. He could literally count the number of times they've passed by the same apple stand around the corner. If it was even remotely possible, Harry swore he would've seen his own footsteps engraved into the cold hard cement.

"Don't look at me like I don't know the way. I'm not stupid."

Harry sighed mockingly. "You don't say..."

His patience was wearing thin. Of course it was, he was practically roaming around town in his most dashing disguise so far.

If Tom caught a hint of this, he'd probably be making that arrogant and annoying face he always does when he's taunting Harry.

Too bad, Harry wasn't letting him have that chance. The disguise was, although undeniably disturbing, actually quite smart. It was mortifying, but he was desperate to stay hidden.

Ohh… he can't imagine what his parents would say if they saw him all dolled up and dressed as a lady. Well, how could they? _They're dead for god's sake._

"I'll ask around, see where we could stay the night…" Draco said before leaving.

It was getting late, and they still made no progress. Even worse, they ended up becoming stranded on a very shady place. From where Harry was left sitting alone, he noticed a few lights going off and less people roaming the streets. Eventually, there came a time when Harry was accompanied by nothing but the cold freezing air.

_Well, he wasn't entirely alone. _

A pretty lady, all by herself at this time of the night… an easy target, alright.

Harry was vaguely aware that he was being watched. When he did notice a group of old men eyeing him from around the corner, his eyes searched for Draco but it doesn't look like he was coming back any time soon.

He abruptly stood up and walked briskly, not really paying attention to where he was going. When he began to run, the old men trailed him, relentless.

Unfortunately, Harry's life seemed to be composed of an endless cycle of hiding, escaping and then getting caught.

Harry shivered, his knees were trembling from running. The sudden downpour didn't help either. He could barely see through his big foggy spectacles.

And then he tripped.

_Of course, that had to happen_.

Harry wasn't really a lucky person to begin with, on the contrary it was actually quite the opposite. He cursed himself for it… for being weak, for wearing a terrible disguise, and for tripping on his own feet.

_Still…things could get better…_

Harry had to make the most of this escape, he had thought this through. Although things weren't really falling into place and going as planned yet.

He scrambled to his feet and just when he was already prepared and motivated to outrun his persistent pursuers, something came over him.

Probably fear, a little bit of stress and an enormous_ carriage_.

If he was being specific, it was actually a _horse_. They're the one that pulls the carriage.

He _literally _didn't see that one coming. It's not every day, a person gets hit by _a fucking horse._

Harry came crashing to the floor. He felt a sharp pain on his forehead, and when he touched it, he realized that he was bleeding… _a lot. _

When he glanced to the side, he saw the figures following him run back into the dark alley. His vision was hazy and he couldn't think straight. It was a pain to move, so he gave up on that too.

He heard a pair of footsteps approaching. It was too dark and his head felt like it was burning so he couldn't see the face of the man in front of him.

_Things could get better… _did he say that earlier?

At least, now, he knows for a fact that the only thing he was getting better at was being _dreadfully terrible at life._

How bad could that be, right?

* * *

A/N: Horses will be death of me! OTL


End file.
